


Journey to the Past

by ageofgeek



Category: Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica - James A. Owen
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Cross-Post, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Fear of Death, Gap Filler, Gen, The Dragon's Apprentice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ageofgeek/pseuds/ageofgeek
Summary: A short one-shot with different POVs with those 2 years when Time was ripped apart. Big spoilers for "Book 5: The Dragon's Apprentice."Cross-posted on Fanfiction.net.
Kudos: 1





	Journey to the Past

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Fanfiction.net [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6447297/1/Journey-to-the-Past), on 11/2/2010. I made some slight grammatical edits, and figured that I would transfer this over to my AO3 since the Imaginarium Geographica fandom is already pretty small, and people might be interested in this fic!
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_The Tamerlane House, September of 1943_

* * *

…"I can't promise," Charles called back over his shoulder as he waved goodbye. "After all, some of us have less time than others—and we need to be making hay while the sun shines."

"Where in heaven's name did you get that expression?" John said in mock disgust. "You've been fraternizing with the American scholars again, haven't you?"

The three companions laughed as they stepped onto the bridge—and disappeared…

…finding themselves once again, back in Oxford.

It was Autumn, just as it had been hours before: allowing the three Caretakers to breathe out a sigh of relief. They were home.

* * *

_Oxford, March of 1944_

* * *

John had begun thinking it was very unusual Bert and Jules had not contacted them since their return to the Summer Country about a week after their arrival. Then he grew continually uneasy when the weeks continued to pass. And now, the Caveo Principia's mind was frantic with worry for the Archipelago, and everyone in it.

All of the present Caretakers, now confined to the Summer Country, had contacted each other, of course—but who knew what could be happening back at the Tamerlane House when none of them had a way to get there? All of the Dragonships were gone, along with Samaranth and the other dragons. There was no other way to cross the Frontier, except with the trumps and watches, which were currently out of commission.

John, Jack, and Charles were stuck here: and as the clock kept ticking, faster and faster like a bomb, the Caretaker Principia couldn't help but realize that 1945 was approaching far too quickly.

* * *

_Cambridge, July of 1944_

* * *

Jack supposed that the Bridge of Shakespeare had been a good idea at first: after all, it had bought them back to the Summer Country all those months ago. However, he was beginning to doubt that belief wholeheartedly when it had been nearly 10 months since their return, with not one word.

If something had not been wrong, one of the Messengers would have arrived through a trump. Hank Morgan, or Alvin Ransom - maybe even Bert or Verne themselves. Or if there _had_ been something wrong, the least the Emeritus could have done was follow them through the Bridge once again, just to reassure them that they were okay. But there had not been one word.

Of course, life goes on, even if you're constantly worrying about a secret you can tell virtually no one. Charles had been spending as much time with his family as he could: 1945 was creeping up on them too quickly. John was continuing on his book, and every time they met, it was clear that he was trying not to appear as desperate or frantic as he actually was.

Hugo was mostly worried about Rose, as they all were. But it was Jack who concocted all the outrageous possibilities. What if their friends were in danger? What if because of their return, something horrible had happened on the other end? What if the Archipelago had been destroyed?

John and Charles tried to convince him that that was such a drastic prediction, that it couldn't possibly happen: the Caretaker Emeritus was simply busy with fixing the trumps and all. And there was the message made by Mother Night to Rose, of course.

"And time moves faster here anyway, old chap," Charles had supplied. "You know how the Tamerlane House works. They've probably just lost track of time. The problem has probably already been fixed."

"But then why hasn't Burton returned to Cambridge? Or Doyle? Or Houdini?" Jack shot back. And that, none of them could answer.

And if something truly wasn't wrong, then why were they all so worried?

* * *

_Oxford, May 14, 1945_

* * *

Charles did not truly know when he would die: only that it was sometime in 1945. 9 years earlier, he had spoken to Bert and Verne about the possibility of becoming a tulpa, and after the success of Jack's sample, he was certain that he could do it.

But would he be able to do the final act alone? Without any of the Caretakers Emeritus? Without Verne or Kipling?

Would Charles Williams have to die alone?

_No_ , the Caretaker thought before falling into a weary and surprisingly draining sleep. _I won't be alone. I'll have my friends. And that's all a dying man can ask for._

* * *

_Oxford, May 15_ _, 1945_

* * *

_I can't believe he's gone_ , John thought.

"There was no warning. Sometimes people just can't hold on any longer." _Not that that would make it any easier to bear. We knew when he would die, and yet, here the two of us are, surprised that he's gone._

"I'm sorry for your loss, good sirs. The funeral will be held in 3 days. You are welcome to attend the wake on Wednesday as well."

"Thank you, doctor." Jack said numbly beside him.

The doctor, who had no idea the importance of the news he had brought to the two remaining Caretakers, walked away.

There was nothing. All was silent. Even the bustle of the hospital could not penetrate the silent and sorrowful bubble the two friends had been sucked into. Charles was gone. Dead. Deceased. And with no other Caretakers, with the Emeritus still missing in action…

…what would they do now?

* * *

_The Kilns, May 17_ _, 1945_

* * *

"He was a good man, John, and he lived a full life, regardless of knowing when he would die. I don't think Charles would have any regrets—"

Jack's speech to his depressed and silent friend was interrupted by a sharp and curt knocking at the door.

John raised his eyebrow in surprise. Who could be here, at this hour…?

He opened the door, and there stood the most welcome sight he had ever seen: Bert, Jules Verne, Alvin Ransom, and Hank Morgan, all standing with stunned and confused expressions on their faces.

The Caretakers had returned to the Summer Country.

But they were too late.

"…Knew you'd come," John said, his voice a mix of joy and barely-restrained sorrow. "I knew you'd find a way!"

Behind him they could see Jack, his brother Warnie, and Hugo Dyson. All were dressed very formally and were drinking strong liquor.

There was some confusion as the new arrivals entered and introductions were made. Warnie and Hugo had never met Verne or Bert, and Ransom and Morgan only briefly.

"We're so glad to see you're all right," said Bert. "When the earthquake happened, we worried something had gone terribly wrong."

"Earthquake?" Jack asked, looking at John, who shrugged. "Nothing like that happened. The bridge worked like a charm, but then it vanished. We've been terribly worried all this time about _you_. And when we didn't hear from anyone—"

"All what time?" said Bert. "You just left, not five minutes ago!"

"Bert," Jack said slowly, his voice trembling, "we came home two years ago. We've been trying to reach you the entire time."

Verne closed his eyes as he suddenly realized: They were having a wake. "Then Charles…," he began.

"You've come too late," said Jack. "Charles is dead."


End file.
